


If You Knew What He Was After

by southern_screamer



Category: Duran Duran
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Shower Sex, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-08
Updated: 2012-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:27:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23545381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southern_screamer/pseuds/southern_screamer
Summary: John has had enough and calls Simon's bluff.
Relationships: Simon Le Bon/John Taylor (Duran Duran)
Kudos: 8





	If You Knew What He Was After

1982\. New York City. Hungry Like the Wolf. They're only halfway through the song, and John's had his ass groped by Simon at least twice now. By the end of the song, Simon has even tried to kiss him. He's always doing this, little touches here, attempted gropings there, motioning John in to sing with him at the microphone and then getting so close to his face, John doesn't know if Simon is going to kiss him or not. Emotions are always running high and most of the time he doesn't even notice or care about what Simon is doing, but tonight he's in a mood that no stage high can fix.

Back out for an encore, John is hyper-aware and light on his feet, and Simon seems to love the game he is playing, quickly squirting across the stage whenever he gets too close, and definitely not sharing the mic. The song ends, and they all wave and run off stage, grabbing water, towels, stripping off shirts. They have an early day tomorrow, so they've all agreed to shun the groupies. And John has an idea.

He goes to find Mike, one of the muscle guys for the group, and presents him with his request. Thinking that John is about to have the freakiest time with some bird, he gladly loans him his handcuffs and the key, sending him off with a smile and a pang of jealousy.

Simon is having a shower when John finally finds him, one of those wall-to-wall white tile open showers normally found in sports locker rooms. He's facing the door, shampooing, when John arrives at the doorway. He watches Simon for a moment: eyes closed, arms up in his hair, the soapy water flowing over the contours of his body. Eventually, the water runs clear, and John finds himself staring at Simon's nipples. And Simon notices John staring. And John notices that Simon notices, and he snaps his head up to look Simon in the eye.

"Johnny! Come join us!" Simon invites, doing a little dance. "Aww, come on, Johnny, it feels terrific. I'll soap you up, you can soap me up..."

John begins to walk toward Simon, fully clothed, water be damned.

"Er, Johnny, you might want to take your clothes--" He never finishes that sentence. John grabs him by the arm and turns him around to face the shower wall, slapping the handcuffs on his wrists before Simon can even think to react. "John?" Simon asks. "What's going on?"

"I am so fucking tired of you teasing me!" John practically screams at the back of his head. "What is this game you're playing with me? You only go so far but never follow through. I mean, do you like, want to be my boyfriend or something, or are you just playing around? Do you really want me to kiss you right there on the stage, or are you just having a laugh?" Simon's actions have sent him such mixed signals, he doesn't know how to react. And he doesn't like feeling like that, constantly off guard and awkward.

Simon is suddenly struck by how serious John is taking all of this. That's his thing, he loves to have a bit of physical fun, and John is just so strikingly beautiful, it's hot being flirty with him. It feels good, and it's win-win, really: if John calls his bluff, then he gets to be physical with this gorgeous man. If he doesn't ever actually make contact, it just continues to be good, hot fun.

But John wants to know his place in the relationship. They were friends from the moment they met, and, each appreciating the other's good looks, have often been a bit more touchy and flirty with each other than with any of their bandmates. But none of it was serious, they were just boys doing silly things. Right? Now, when Simon tries to kiss him on stage, what is he supposed to do? Is he supposed to kiss him, or just pretend to kiss him, or just laugh it off? And what if he does go to kiss him, will Simon do the same, or pull away? And why would anyone want to see them kiss each other on stage anyway? Like they need any more reason for people to be against them.

John is soaking wet and his clothes hang heavy on his lanky frame. He grabs Simon by his hands and pulls him away from the wall, leaning in close to his face.

"Is this what you want, Simon? Do you want me to kiss you?" Simon is staring back at him, John's breath on his face sending a shiver up his spine. "I'll make it easy for you, so you don't have to try so hard."

John leans closer and plants a rough kiss on Simon's lips. "There. We finally kissed. Was it everything you hoped it would be?" He leans in and gives Simon another kiss and when he pulls away, Simon's face follows, betraying him; he didn't want John to know how much he was enjoying that.

"Ohhh, okay. That _is_ what you wanted." Simon's eyes drop to the floor, then back up to look John in the eye. "Okay, Charley, that's all I wanted to know." John moves in and kisses Simon's lips, much softer this time, lingering. When he pulls away, Simon exhales audibly. This time when John leans in, he slides his tongue past Simon's parted lips and grips his mouth with his own. John soon finds himself in a power struggle with Simon, as Simon is pushing him with his mouth attempting to get the upper hand. Once again, John breaks the kiss.

"I think we all know who has the advantage here, Charley," John says, as he steps back away from him. "Too bad your hands are cuffed. What would you do if they were free? Would you try to grope me? Because you've been trying to do that all night."

John moves around Simon and squeezes his right ass cheek. "Is that what you would do?"

John grabs his ass with both hands, squeezing hard and pressing himself into Simon's back to whisper in his ear, "Or like this? Is this how you would grope me?"

John runs a hand up the inside of Simon's thigh and cups his balls. "What about this? Do you want to touch me like this, Charley? Too bad your hands are cuffed."

John walks around to face Simon and can't help but notice his erection. He feels momentarily bad at the fact that Simon is standing there, stark naked and completely vulnerable, while he teases him with something he clearly desires. But then he remembers that Simon has been driving him completely insane with all of the teasing, all of the will he/won't he funny business, and John decides to press onward with the retaliation.

And John is hard, too, his pants uncomfortably tight. While he's been busy titillating Simon, he's been unintentionally turning himself on. He looks over Simon's body: still wet, still tan from Sri Lanka, beautiful muscles and structure; then up at his eyes, sparkling blue, almost daring him to continue, to touch him again, to kiss him again. He moves toward his friend, their eyes locked on each other. John's eyes are predatory and full of danger; Simon senses that he's in for something hot and wonderful, whatever happens. Because it's John, the most beautiful man he's ever seen.

John moves in close to Simon again, "Well fuck, Charley," he sighs, shaking his head, looking deep into his eyes. The look on John's face makes him take a step back, back toward the tile of the shower. John moves with him and then leans forward, pressing Simon the rest of the way back into the wall as their lips connect. He grips Simon's face with his hands, fingers resting behind his jaw, kissing him as if his life depends on the breath in Simon's mouth.

Simon opens his eyes for a brief moment: John's eyes are closed and his long, wet eyelashes are fanned out on his skin. The water is hot, so his cheeks and lips are red and the dreamlike way he is kissing Simon makes him close his eyes again, moaning into John's mouth and shifting his hips slightly, wishing he could get his hands free.

John reaches down and grabs Simon's cock with his right hand, shifting to the side slightly and burying his face in Simon's neck. He strokes Simon slowly and deliberately, exploring his collarbones with his mouth. Simon throws his head back against the tile, mouth open, as John sucks at his skin and grips the head of his cock, squeezing and pulling slowly.

"Fuck, Johnny," Simon shifts his body hard, frustrated at the restraints on his hands that he had momentarily forgotten were in play. He wants to reach out and touch John so badly, if only to free him of his soaking wet clothing; but he doesn't just want to stop there. Too bad his hands are cuffed.

"Kiss me again, Johnny," Simon exhales, as John is stroking the length of him. John lifts his head up to face Simon and opens his eyes. Half-lidded, pupils dilated, mouth open, he briefly focuses on Simon's lips before pressing his own against them, thrusting his tongue into Simon's mouth and increasing the friction on his cock.

His own cock feels as if it will break free of his pants if he doesn't get them off soon. Moaning into Simon's mouth, his hand quickening the pace, and Simon is breathing heavy and moving restlessly around, trying desperately to release his hands.

"Oh, Johnny, fuck..." Simon's orgasm comes quickly, his eyes closing, head falling back. John nips at the skin underneath his jaw and then takes a step back. Fumbling in his wet pocket, he finds the key to the handcuffs and sets Simon free.

Simon launches his body forward, grabs John and pushes him up against the opposite wall, and strips his body of clothing. He watches as the water slides over John's skin and leans in to explore John's chest with his mouth, holding him in place by his throat, feeling John swallow and struggle against his grip, his chest heaving.

Simon stands up and looks John in the eye, hand still around John's throat. "You're a very bad boy, Johnny, making me suffer like that, not letting me touch you. You know that's all I've wanted to do. I can't help it, you're too fucking beautiful."

He squats down in front of John and sticks his tongue out, flicking it lightly against the underside of the head of John's cock, which is standing at full attention in front of Simon's face. He runs his hands up from his thighs to his stomach, then wrapping them around John's cock, squeezing and moving back and forth while sucking him. The naked look of pleasure on John's face as he watches him, mouth open, breathing heavily, his eyes trying hard to focus, rewards Simon when he glances up.

He stops to grab John's hands and move them to his head, turning over control and giving himself to John. Simon opens his mouth as John threads his fingers in his wet hair, then he slides himself into Simon's mouth again and again, faster, then slower. For a brief moment, Simon breaks free and takes John in deep, once, twice; John grabs his head and pulls away, "Fuck, Charley, I almost just came in your mouth."

"I want you to come in my mouth, Johnny. That's the whole point." Simon puts his hands on top of John's, still in his hair, and lowers his mouth onto John's cock again. This time, John is intent on finishing, and pushes and pulls Simon's head until his rhythm stutters. Simon takes full advantage of this situation and deep throats John, who screams his name and pulls his head into him as he explodes.

Simon stands up and rinses his mouth out with water before grabbing John's face and kissing him deeply. He turns John around and presses his body into him, fingers laced around his stomach, maneuvering them under the still running water. John leans his head back against Simon's shoulder. "Charley, why didn't you just say that you wanted this?"

"It is so much fun flirting with you, Johnny. Every time you look at me, I get butterflies in my stomach. It's the greatest thing ever. Next to what just happened, that is." Simon nibbles gently on John's ear; John swats his face away.

"Stop it. Let's get out of here." They turn off the water and dry up. Simon throws John an extra shirt and a pair of pajama pants.

"Do you know how much I hate this striped shirt, Charley?"

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this in 2012 and then deleted my account at some point. Posting again.


End file.
